


Memories

by spacesix



Series: Requiem [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 00:53:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11137992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacesix/pseuds/spacesix
Summary: The Vagabond doesn’t remember when he started feeling. He remembers exactly when he stopped.





	Memories

**Author's Note:**

> mood drops mean murder time. I should be writing my english paper

The Vagabond doesn’t remember exactly when he started feeling. 

Maybe it was when the pretty lad with an accent and too much information for his own good came up to him at the bar and made him a deal he couldn’t refuse. 

Maybe it was when the same lad showed up a month later at the warehouse he was being ‘interrogated’ in, and with a flash of his stupid gold-plated gun, dropped every person in the room without ever letting his smile slip or getting a drop of blood on his clothes. 

Maybe it was something else entirely. 

He remembers feeling something the night Gavin didn’t come back after an infiltration job, even after making the promise that morning to come home safe; the same promise they had been making to each other for the better part of a year. He remembers feeling nothing when he left the country the next morning. 

He remembers feeling something when he received a text four months later from an unknown number, asking him for a meeting at base of the Del Perro Ferris Wheel signed only with ‘G’. He remembers feeling something that night as he worshiped his lover and heard his real name spoken again for the first time in too long in a seedy motel room in an even seedier city. 

He remembers feeling nothing during his fifth anniversary heist with the crew Gavin introduced him to so long ago, when he killed everything that got in their way without blinking and looked to the cops like he could pull weapons from thin air. He remembers feeling again that night when the crew were sprawled across the couches in the penthouse, bandaged up and laughing and drinking and counting their new piles of money. He remembers that feeling growing stronger when Gavin, newly freed of his usual glitz and dressed in an old shirt and fuzzy pajama pants, tucked himself into his side and gave him a smile and a kiss that didn’t taste like beer for once. 

For all the things he didn’t remember, and all the things he only a little bit did, Ryan remembers exactly when the feelings stopped. No, he doesn’t remember the break-in, or the struggle, the firefight, the kidnapping; he only remembers the blood on the floor and the warpath the Fakes were on to get their boy back. 

He remembers feeling during that time. Where everything was fuzzy before, now he clearly remembers the hate, the bloodlust, the _fear_. He remembers feeling when they stormed the crews’ base. He remembers feeling when he saw Gavin, staring back at him wide-eyed from where he was tied up in the corner of the room surrounded by mercenaries. He remembers feeling when he the crew’s leader came to stand in front of them, smirking and twirling something in his left hand. 

“You let yourself get soft, Haywood.” 

The leader let go of the object in his hand, and Ryan’s heart dropped with it. The ring he had bought for Gavin, a custom gold and iron alloy that matched the one currently hidden by the glove on own his left hand. The ring hit the ground. A knife hit Gavin’s throat. 

The last feeling Ryan had, was feeling like he was too late. 

He felt nothing as he and the rest of the Fakes slaughtered the crew. He felt nothing as he took his sweet time with the leader. He felt nothing, said nothing, as he picked up the ring and headed back towards the base. The cleaners would have finished by now. 

He felt nothing as he dropped his keys in front of Geoff not an hour after the man’s return and walked away from the crew. He felt nothing as he dropped Gavin’s ring between the slats of the boardwalk in front of the ferris wheel, and tied his own around his neck with a golden chain. 

He felt nothing as he left Los Santos and moved again for the first time in nearly a decade. Ryan had died with his husband and been buried with him in an unmarked grave next to an unregistered warehouse in the Los Santos wilderness. Now The Vagabond had returned. 

The Vagabond remembered his golden boy- no- _the_ Golden Boy, the one that would have happily cut the tongues of anyone who suggested he was something to be possessed. He remembered him as the chilling smile that could turn so sweet at the right people, the hands that could reduce him to a puddle not a day after choking a man four times his size to death, the gold plated everything that had adorned the already un-ignorable boy. The Vagabond remembered him, and refused to let himself feel anything about it. 

**Author's Note:**

> catch me @ spaceholts.tumblr.com


End file.
